


Wish

by DaemoninFluff



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Italy, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Slash, Steve in Italy, Tony is a statue but don't ya worry, canon differences, mentioning of Bucky n the Howling Commandos, mentioning of war and hunger, unless I'm going to post more, writing promt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaemoninFluff/pseuds/DaemoninFluff
Summary: When Steve wakes up, seventy years into the future, he asks to visit places he had been to in the war. One place, or better said, one statue, in particular.





	Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! So I'm actually writing on a Hawaii 5-0/MCU crossover, but after Endgame I also started a kinda fix-it, and then, cause I can't control myself, I wrote this, based on a post by writing-promt-s on tumbr (https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/184666422570/there-is-a-beautiful-statue-of-a-person-in-the). If I ever find out how to link stuff in the notes I will do that.  
> Also, english isn't my first language so y'all probably will find mistakes; I would be happy if ya could point them out so I can correct them and learn.  
> Have fun!

No one new how long the statue actually existed. It was quite a mystery in itself. And the rumor going around, all around the world, made it seem even more interesting.

Steve had stood here once before, right in the middle of this big piazza in a small town in Italy. Back then he had been younger; about seventy years younger. Or maybe not. It had been seventy years, that much was true, but he hadn’t lived, not really. He had slept, in the ice.

To be back here was a strange feeling. It had been war, people sitting on the house walls and in the alleys, begging for food, for shelter. It had been cold, near December. But now it was warm, hot even. People gathered around the place, tourists, looking at the statue, taking it’s hand in theirs as if there was a chance, as if it was possible something about the rumor was true, finding their soulmate in this hard, white stone, taking selfies with their phones, so modern and advanced, Steve sometimes feared to use his own, to break it.

He knew he could easily get a new one. SHIELD could afford it without any problems. Nowadays things like that weren’t expensive.

This piazza, this statue, had been one of the things Steve had wanted – needed – to see again, one more time.

Today, on this hot, sunny, summer day in the middle of June, things were different. Not only the weather, not just because the war was over since about as long as Steve had been frozen in the ice. The people were happier, their stories still the same. All around the place, the hoses and alleys were little booth where they sold fresh fruits and other food, little souvenirs and all kind of knick-knacks today's society thought of as useful to some extend.

Steve still hadn’t figured out how this selfie sticks worked.

Here, it felt like a billion years ago. When he was here with Bucky and all his other friends of the Howling Commandos they had dared each other to touch it, the statue, it’s hand. Steve had wanted to, really wanted, to touch this beautiful hands crafted by someone who had to know what they did, hands of a man who had to be beautiful, astounding, if he really ever had existed.

But he didn’t dare to, even though all the others, even Buck, did.

_It would bring him back to life_ , he had thought in winter of 1943. _It would bring them back in a world full of war, of hurt and hunger. And even more hurt if the person touching him, bringing him back, the person who was his soulmate, would die. Die in this war. Of which kind was even._

But now?

Sure, Steve would work for SHIELD, he would fight. There was still war going on all around the world, there were still people starving. But not here, nor in New York, at his home. What if- He actually didn’t want to think it. But what if? If it was true. If it possibly was him all along.

Since Erskine’s superserum, since the ice, he somehow believed there could be something true, something _real_ about this legend. About a beautiful young man being held captive in the figure of a stone, not able to get free until his soulmate touches him, holds his hand.

But really, why should it be him. It could be anyone.

He wanted to try, though.

“You want me to take a picture”, a young woman asked next to him and Steve felt stupid, all of a sudden, because he’s already standing here for at least a quarter of an hour without moving.

“Y-Yeah”, he cleared his throat, “that would be really nice of you.”

The woman smiled, her teeth shining next to her lilac lipstick. He handed over his phone. There’s nothing special about it. It’s the older kind and he hadn’t changed the background from the original light blue or rearranged any of the way too many apps.

He looked at the woman, her dark hair falling over a yellow flower printed dress. She smiled, flirty. Probably only because of his looks.

No one knows who he is, he reminded himself. No one tries to get to know him nowadays. Before the serum the people had at least been sincere, didn’t look at him all the time, because who would want small, ill and poor Steven Grant Rogers from Brooklyn.

“Come on”, the woman’s eyes hone in the bright sun, they almost looked black, red where the sunshine meets them. “Take his hand!”

Steve obeyed. He walked up to the statue, his heart pounding fast.

_What if- No. But if it were possible, it would be wonderful…_

He lifted his hand, unsure.

“Look into the camera”, the woman yelled with her big smile, her face full of happiness.

Steve grabed the stone hand. It’s hard, but also soft, silky. His hand moved into it, fitting perfectly. He looked at the woman.

The next moment the hand closed around his, much warmer then before. A scream. More. Then the hand went slack and without the serum flowing through his veins Steve probably wouldn’t have been able to catch the man who suddenly clutched on his white t-shirt.

Steve’s heard skipped a beat and he nearly let the man fall to the ground.

He’s beautiful.

Steve didn’t really register how more than half the piazza was left empty in panic and confusion. He only could stare into this warm brown eyes, different to the woman’s, lighter, but with the same happiness and joy. Excitement.

Steve licked his lips. Where did this nice fella come from? I _t can’t be…_ He looked up and surely, the statue was gone from it’s place. He looked back down.

“Hi”, the man said with a rough voice and Steve clinched him even more to himself.

“Hi”, he answered, breathing in, deep. The man smelled like oil and metal, reminding him of the war time, his comrades loading guns, of the plain crashing into the wide ocean, of the taste of blood in his mouth. And then there was something else, something different, that smelled like home.

“Tony”, the brunette said and a few seconds later Steve realized it’s the man’s name.

“Steve.”

“I know.”


End file.
